


Sketchbook

by L0NE



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, soren and ike being boyfriends!, soren and mist being friends!, soren being a softy for once, takes place midgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0NE/pseuds/L0NE
Summary: Mist threw her hands in the air, “Oh, thank you, Soren! I’ll make you look great!” She cheered, taking a seat cross legged on the ground and immediately beginning her sketch....It didn’t look great.





	Sketchbook

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to see more things where mist interacts with soren. you’d think she’d be close to him because of ike’s relationship with him or something. so i wrote this. 
> 
> i can’t remember if theres any canon that goes against mist being able to draw, so if there is, pretend that it doesnt exist for a little.

“Could I draw you, Soren?”

 

Mist leaned over Soren’s desk with a thick pad of paper in her hands, a pencil tucked behind her ear, and an innocent smile on her face.

 

The sun had long set over camp, the fall weather sapping away daylight fast after dinner not too long ago. While most tended to turn in early as the season went on, Soren had decided to organize some paperwork that needed tending to, shooing Ike out of their shared tent so he could focus. Perhaps he was too focused, since he hadn’t even noticed Mist’s presence until she spoke up. Judging from how high the moon was in the sky and how worn his candle had gotten, he guessed had been hunched over his desk for at least an hour.

 

Soren sat up straight and stretched in his chair with a grunt, then looked to Mist, who was still smiling. “You draw?” He asked. Figuring he could finish the rest of his paperwork after she left, he pushed everything he had been doing to the side to make room to properly converse with her.

 

In that instant, the sketchbook she held was trust in front of him. Its cover was worn and the edges of the papers inside looked frayed and dirty, yet Mist beamed with satisfaction. “Yup. I started before the war. I’m not really good, but I’m working on it.” She nodded, her tone encouraging him to take a peek. Soren gently took the item from her hands, and, when she grinned at him, he began flipping through it to examine what she had done.

 

The first dozen pages were spread out, beginner’s drawings of flowers and trees at different perspectives and sizes. They were made with thick, dark lines, the marks heavy enough to leave unsightly indents in the couple pages behind them. Over time, the pieces began to carry more details, and the lines began to become much lighter, until there were sprawling environments covering entire pages. Eventually, the nature sketches were stopped to be replaced by humans.

 

The first bunch of human drawings in particular were, admittedly, horribly drawn, with terrible anatomy and such muddled features that Soren couldn’t tell who Mist was even drawing— for most of her sketches, she hadn’t even bothered drawing hands, either not completing the arm or putting both of them behind the person’s back.

 

Soren turned his eyes up at Mist for a moment to see that she had an embarrassed look on her face, meaning she probably wasn’t too proud of these particular pieces, so he continued ahead.

 

The sketches following the first dozen increased in quality and began to become people he recognized. Ike sitting against a tree, Titania holding a pan in her hand, Greil with his back turned on his horse… They still were awkwardly done, but there was clearly a lot of time put into these sketches, and Mist was definitely learning.

 

Though there were a few other people scattered around, like Oscar and Boyd, Mist seemed intent on capturing those closest to her. Soren flipped past pages and pages of Ike and Greil, of the two of them training together, sitting together, eating together, until everything was suddenly stopped by a drawing of a familiar axe stuck in dirt.

 

From then on, the pages were blank.

 

Soren forced the knot in his stomach to untie itself as he stared down at the page. “It seems you haven’t drawn for quite some time,” He commented, closing the pad and handing it back to Mist, who nodded weakly with a similarly weak smile.

 

“I didn’t really have any motivation after…” Her voice trailed off, and her face fell for a moment. A part of Soren began to worry she was going to start crying, which he was never good with. However, with a clench of her fist, her whole demeanor changed into a more motivated one, and she nodded to herself, “But I wanna try it again! And I think you’ll be a perfect model, Soren!”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Soren asked, crossing his arms. “Why is that?”

 

Mist opened to a new page in her pad, taking her pencil from behind her ear and pointing it at Soren, “One; you don’t move a lot, so I can draw you for longer. When I would draw Ike or Dad, they’d get really impatient and move after a couple minutes, so I had to do them quickly. But you can do paperwork for a really long time without even moving, which, while it’s terrible for your back, is good for me!” She then retracted her hand to put her pencil to the paper, “And two; I like drawing family, and you’re family to me.”

 

Soren raised an eyebrow at that second comment, leaning back in his chair a bit, “Mist. You don’t need to say things like that to have me comply.” He glared at her. Sure, the two of them were close, though he doubted she seriously meant what she said. And he wasn’t exactly a fan of fake flattery.

 

But Mist simply pouted in response, her frustration genuine, “What? I’m being honest! I’ve known you for so long now, there’s no way you’re not family. Not to mention…” She pointed to Soren’s side, where a large cot strewn with one large blanket lay, messy on one side and neatly made on another— the cot where Soren and Ike slept together. “If you’re like that with my brother, then you’re family. That’s how it works.” She said, cracking a grin at the blush that ran across Soren’s cheeks.

 

There were just some things that should be acknowledged but never said aloud, yet Mist hadn’t learned that bit of etiquette from anyone. Her brashness only served as a small echo of her brother and father’s, but it was still a problem that needed working on... Soren put a hand to his face, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. “Goddess help me,” he groaned.

 

Deciding he should end the conversation before it gets worse, the tactician pulled his hand away to stare at Mist, who couldn’t be happier as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, waiting for his answer. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can draw me tonight, if it means you don’t have any more quips like that.” Without another word, he redirected all his attention to the pile of paper he had pushed away a few moments ago and set back to work.

 

Mist threw her hands in the air, “Oh, thank you, Soren! I’ll make you look great!” She cheered, taking a seat cross legged on the ground and immediately beginning her sketch.

 

—

 

It didn’t look great.

 

What Mist drew was definitely a person, and it definitely was Soren, but her art was still far from perfect, much less great. His eyes were too far apart, his shoulders were too narrow, his hair looked like sharpened knives rather than his soft locks, and his hands were too small, not to mention disjointed.

 

However, that didn’t stop Soren from loving it.

 

The moment Mist showed him the completed drawing the next day at breakfast, Soren‘s eyes lit up brightly, and he smiled a genuine smile, one that was so sweet it made Mia choke on the food she was cramming into her mouth. That smile only amplified when Mist ripped the picture out of her pad and gave it to him, making him promise that so long as she could keep drawing him, he could keep a couple of the pieces she made.

 

(Despite that promise, however, Soren made Mist keep all other drawings she did over the following week, insisting he only needed the first one for now.)

 

Mist would either visit at night while Soren was working, or ask Soren to hold a certain pose while he was in the middle of training with Ike; and, to everyone else’s surprise, he complied well. No one had ever seen Soren acting in a way that didn’t benefit Ike, the army, or himself, so to see him suddenly stop what he was doing to bend to the whims of a little girl was a bit weird. If anyone mentioned that to his face, however, he would promptly light a part of them on fire, annoyed.

 

“You really like helping Mist, huh?” Ike asked one night, taking a tome from Soren’s desk while his partner had his back turned. Ever since Mist gave him the first drawing, Soren had kept it safely pressed in the heaviest tome he had, taking utmost care to never have it crinkled or, goddess forbid, ripped. Ike grinned to himself at the lengths Soren went for something that could easily be replaced like this, but he figured the expendability of the drawing had nothing to do with what it was worth to him.

 

“I always thought she was a pretty good artist. At least, compared to me or dad. I can’t remember if mom ever did stuff like this.” Ike commented. He faintly recalled how Mist had scolded him one time, telling him he had no attention for detail when he was rushing to draw something just to prove he could do it.

 

Soren turned around, saw Ike was holding the paper a little bit too tightly, and snatched his tome back along with the artwork. He pushed Ike away lightly as he did so.

 

Ike let him do so, not annoyed in the slightest. “I expected at least some criticism of it, considering it’s you.” He said as he sat at the edge of their cot, unclasping his armor and taking off the layers he had worn that day during training.

 

“It’s the opposite.” Soren said plainly, “Sure, her art isn’t the best, but she’s trying her hardest, and there’s bits of improvement in everything she makes.” He placed the drawing back in the tome, closed it, then placed it safely in an area where the tome was hidden from the world; surrounded on all sides by other books that camouflaged it easily.

 

“She’s having fun doing something she likes. That’s important for someone as young as her in times like these, especially with what she’s gone through since Greil’s passing. She needs to have some kind of outlet along with the support we already give her, or…” Soren’s voice trailed off, looking at the ground as if he was staring at something that wasn’t there.

 

For a second, he wondered how much different he would be now if he had something to keep him afloat while he was undergoing his training when he was younger. If he was allowed the luxuries any other kid had, then would he be…?

 

His thought process stopped when he felt Ike’s calloused hand take his own, bringing him back to the present. He lifted his head to stare back at the mercenary on the bed, his expression blank. “...Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you remember anything bad,” Ike murmured, the tone in his voice apologetic. Maybe even ashamed.

 

Soren squeezed his hand in response and nodded, “I know. I just don’t want her to… Well, there’s no easy way to say it, but I’m sure you know what I mean.” He shrugged. Some part of Ike’s brain knew to fill in that unfinished sentence with _I don’t want her to be like me,_ despite how sad it made him.

 

Continuing on, Soren stared at the array of tomes on his desk and shuffled them around, really hiding the one with the artwork in it, as if it were a national treasure. His voice was low now, so Ike almost didn’t hear him as he got the last of his training gear off. “She called me family the first time she asked to draw me,” murmured Soren in disbelief. “Isn’t that strange, that she could think of me that way?”

 

Ike raised an eyebrow, as though Soren had asked something outlandish. “Don’t you feel the same?”

 

That made Soren pause. His attention was torn from his desk, and he turned to stare at Ike for a moment. He then looked off to the side, his mouth straightened into a line.

 

Sure, even if he didn’t show it much, he did care about Mist. He had known her long enough, and she had never gotten on his bad side. In fact, she assisted him quite often on the battlefield with her stave and in camp with her cooking. She took his side on plenty arguments before, yelled at Boyd for him, and one time even helped nurse him back to health when he had gotten sick a few years ago.

 

There was no reason he should dislike her, and he didn’t, but did he consider her family?

 

A good follow up question would be— did he consider Ike family?

 

He took a seat on their shared cot, sighing with annoyance and frustration all the same. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a…” His voice trailed off.

 

Ike tossed the pile of clothing and gear that had built up next to him onto the floor, moving over so he could wrap a muscled arm around Soren’s shoulders. He squeezed him; not enough to hurt him, obviously, but enough to make Soren relax a bit in his warmth. “You’ve always had a family. With us.” Ike said.

 

When Soren looked away to hide the expression on his face, Ike nodded, “That smile is nice. Maybe Mist should come back here and draw this while she can.”

 

Soren laid back with Ike in tow, threw the blankets over both their heads, and groaned in embarrassment. “Shut up, Ike.”

 

—

 

Mist stopped coming to draw.

 

At first, Soren could understand, because they had gotten into a good amount of fights as of late, and with how many times Boyd messed up, Mist had been pushing herself to the maximum in the healing department. He didn’t really mind it.

 

However, after they had settled down in one location for a few days wait for scouts up ahead to return and Mist still didn’t come by, there was a foreign tugging in Soren’s gut. It was curiosity mixed with… something else. Concern would probably be the right way to describe it. After his talk with Ike about how important it was for Mist to have something she enjoyed doing, it seemed Soren was much more worried about her than he thought.

 

In fact, without even thinking twice about it, he approached her to discuss the matter while she was on dish duty by her lonesome (Boyd skipped his duties that night, something the two of them would have his head over).

 

“Oh, Soren,” Mist looked up from the sink to see the tactician standing nearby, outside of the dining tent, as if he was forbidden from coming in. She began scrubbing a dish while she maintained eye contact with him. “Did you need something?”

 

Soren nodded, hesitating for a second, then stepping inside. “I wanted to ask… Did you want to stop drawing? It’s been a while since you dropped by. Unless you found another subject to draw, which is fine, I—“

 

He cut himself off when Mist’s eyes had filled with tears.

 

Rushing forward and grabbing the dish out of her hands, Soren tilted Mist’s palms up, thinking she had hurt herself somehow on the ceramic dish while scrubbing. “Are you alright?!” He asked, scanning for injury.

 

“M-My drawing supplies… They’re gone…”

 

Fullstop.

 

Soren let go of Mist’s hands and straightened himself.

 

“What?”

 

She looked off to the side, her mouth drawn in a hard line. “During a fight a week ago… I was surrounded, and I was all flustered, and one of the bandits there took my pack… I-It had my weapons in it, and it had my sketchbook in it, too. I chased him down, but… he’d decided it was useless eventually and tossed it all into a river nearby, and…”

 

Her sentence trailed off. She didn’t need to complete the story to tell Soren that her things had been ruined. Stunned, he had no idea what to say. In the momentary silence, Mist wiped at her face, preventing the unshed tears she had from falling. It seemed like ever since Greil’s passing, she did her best not to cry so often, but Soren could only wonder what that did to her on the inside.

 

Especially since some of the last pieces of her father were now permanently damaged.

 

“I’m really sorry, Soren,” she mumbled, looking down at the ground. “I don’t have any money to buy a new one, since they’re so expensive now that we’re traveling, and I spend my money on my own supplies...”

 

Soren shook his head to reassure her, but he was unsure of what he should do. Should he try to comfort her physically by holding her, like how he’d seen Ike do before? Or would that be too much? And should he say something in particular, or not say anything at all, or…

 

He wanted to punch himself for being so god awful at social interaction, so he went with a flat, “You don’t need to apologize. I had no idea.”

 

That only made him hate himself even more.

 

However, if Mist was bothered by his simple wording, she didn’t show it, and just continued to sniffle, “Yeah… B-But still, I should have told you… I just was really upset about it, so…”

 

“You’re not obligated to tell me anything,” Soren said. “I was just worried, is all.”

 

For a second, a smile broke out on Mist’s face, but it wasn’t as if she was cured from her sadness any bit. “Wow, you’re worried about me?” She asked. “What’d you do with the real Soren?”

 

That made Soren freeze for a second. It was meant to be a joke, but he wondered if he had acted coldly enough to her before that would make her question the sincerity of his actions now. Defensively, Soren huffed, “Mist. The _real Soren_ worries about you plenty enough.”

 

She laughed a small laugh, though not one that signified she felt any better. “Hehe, I know you do…” She brought her forearm up to her face again to get rid of her tears. “I’m just gonna take a break from drawing, I guess. I don’t know how long it’ll take to get the gold for a new sketchbook, so…”

 

“I see…”

 

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

Soren shook his head. “No, you didn’t—“

 

Before he could finish what he was saying, Mist turned on her heel and sprinted off.

 

—

 

After returning from his sprint around the camp, Ike reached his tent and scowled upon seeing the same, familiar sight.

 

“Soren. You’re going to work yourself to death.”

 

No emotions changed on the tactician’s face as he stared blankly at the numerous papers on his desk, tapping his pen‘s tip at the edge of the one closest to his resting hand with an impatient rhythm. He wouldn’t so much as look at Ike, who was now inside and shedding the heavy layers he was wearing to protect himself from the fall cold. “No, I’m not,” Soren said, scanning the papers for the information he was looking for, bringing his pen up to change a pre-written number. He then reached his hand out for a paper that was haphazardly thrown into a growing pile on the edge of the desk, then changing a number on that sheet as well. “It’ll take a lot more than this to kill me.”

 

Being branded, it was true, and Ike knew that.

 

That didn’t reassure him, though. “I meant that as hyperbole, but your serious response is a little bit concerning.” Ike said, coming to his side. A hand was put on Soren’s shoulder, and Ike peered down at the mess of papers Soren was overlooking. Though he wasn’t usually the one who filed out paperwork, it was easy to see what he was working on through noting the insane amount of numbers on the pages. “Have you really been reorganizing our expenses for a whole week?” Ike asked.

 

There was a bout of silence. The question was a trick, Soren knew. He wasn’t supposed to say “yes”, considering the task only took a few hours at most when done properly. But he had been spending so much time these past couple days shut up in the tent working, pushing away everyone who tried to get close him, Ike included. It was unnatural, and there had to be a reason to it. They both knew that.

 

“I have to,” was all Soren said. When Ike tried to lean closer, Soren shifted his body slightly, as if to try and escape him.

 

The air immediately turned cold.

 

The swordsman tightened his grip on Soren’s shoulder then, and the latter’s breath was immediately caught in his throat.

 

Ike wasn’t angry with him, he could never truly be, but it was clear he wasn’t tolerating Soren’s behavior any longer. “No, you don’t,” Ike insisted. “Because we’re fine on money.”

 

With his tone, it was obvious Ike wanted Soren to explain himself.

 

Why was Soren even trying to hide it, anyways? Maybe it was his pride that felt wounded by fessing up. But in this scenario, should he really care about what his pride thought? In most cases, he did, but he shouldn’t now.

 

With a sigh, Soren looked up to Ike. “20000 gold. We don’t have 20000 gold to spare,” he said. “A new sketchbook of good quality, with plenty of paper and even a few included pencils and erasers, is that much.” He said. Aimee had told him the estimate earlier in the week.

 

Maybe some part of Soren trusted Ike too much, because he thought that he would understand what he was getting at right away, only to meet Ike’s eyes and see he had absolutely no idea what Soren’s point was.

 

“Mist’s was ruined.” Soren clarified.

 

A pause.

 

“Oh.” Ike breathed, processing what had just been said. He fell completely silent, loosening his grip on Soren’s shoulder and then letting go.

 

“Oh. Damn, that’s… damn,” was the only thing he could follow that up with. Ike wasn’t any better with his words than Soren, after all, but it was clear he was distraught from the way he took a seat on their cot; a hand to his head, a scowl on his face. “She didn't tell me about that. I never would have guessed…” He murmured to himself. Then he looked to Soren, “How did you find out?”

 

Soren brought his pen up, as if he were about to conduct an orchestra. He turned in his chair to look back behind him at Ike, then pointed the tip in his direction. “I had to corner her. She’s the type of person to keep her troubles bottled up and pretend she’s fine, just like another someone I know.”

 

He didn’t say his name, but Ike knew Soren was talking about him. The snide comment would have been met with a quip from Ike, usually, but in that moment, Ike just didn’t care. (To an extent, he agreed, but his own stubbornness refused to let him say it.)

 

The tactician turned back around. “I’ve almost figured this out, so it shouldn’t take me too much longer. I have 10000 gold saved, and I’m rearranging what we’re spend on right now to get us—”

 

Ike raised an eyebrow and cut him off. “You’re using all your personal savings?” Soren only delved into his funds to purchase things for the army when the going got rough, though those instances were far and few between considering how well he was managing their inventory up until now. They had only resorted to it… maybe two other times in the past.

 

“What else am I going to spend it on, Ike? I’m not materialistic,” Soren scoffed. After a beat, he stood up from his desk, put his pen back in its holder, and let out a loud sigh. He’d overlook the rest in the morning, but he was fairly sure he would... probably… have enough to spend on Mist now… maybe.

 

Taking the candle from his desk, Soren blew it out and said under his breath, “I know I can’t replace her older drawings, especially the ones of your father, but still… I want to do something for her. It’ll eat away at me if I don’t.”

 

Ike looked up at him then. Even though the only lighting in their tent was the faint glow of the moon, he could still see the frustrated, embarrassed look on Soren’s face as he admitted, “I guess hearing her call me family really made me want to start acting the part, too.”

 

A smile broke on Ike’s face, and he stood from the cot to take the candle from Soren’s hands. He put it on the desk, then put his hand to Soren’s head, giving him a reassuring pat. “...We’ll go into town tomorrow with whatever we've got and see if we can haggle. Okay?”

 

That wouldn’t be so bad. The group had just driven off the last of what formerly was a large pack of bandits in the area, so perhaps seeing Ike’s face would remind the nearby townsfolk of their service. That, and Ike had an aura that really said “don’t try to argue with me” while also being approachable, so haggling could go much better than Soren would get on his own.

 

“Yeah,” Soren mumbled. The exhaustion from the past couple of days seemed to suddenly catch up with him, and he slumped forward, forehead resting on Ike’s chest. “Thanks.”

 

Ike embraced him. “You don’t need to thank me. If anything, I should be the one thanking you.”

 

—

 

“You’re gonna be thanking me for this, trust me.”

 

“If this is some kind of prank, Ike, I’m gonna beat you.”

 

“It’s not. I can’t secretly take my sister anywhere?”

 

Mist laughed as she continued walking forward like Ike had instructed, with her eyes closed and her grip tightening on brother’s shirt as she replied, “Nope. It makes me think you’re gonna do something weird!”

 

Ike shook his head, even though she wouldn’t be able to see it. “You overthink things too much. Besides, I really won’t be doing anything.”

 

When Mist felt a pat on her shoulder, the signal to open her eyes, she looked out from behind her brother and saw she was standing in front of his tent. Soren emerged from inside of it, holding a small package, and Mist briefly wondered what it held for a moment. But then she reverted her attention back to Soren, who she hadn’t spoken to since their conversation a little over a week ago. Some part of her still felt bad about how it had ended, but she pushed that aside for now and looked to Ike, who nudged her on.

 

“What’s up, Soren?” Mist asked.

 

A silence.

 

“...” Soren said nothing.

 

“......” Soren still said nothing.

 

“...............” Again, nothing, and by now it was becoming awkward.

 

Mist tilted her head in confusion, giving a nervous smile, “Soren? You—“

 

He decided to cut her off then by thrusting the package toward her.

 

It was by no means extravagant looking; in fact, it looked pretty pathetic compared to what some might think a gift should be wrapped like, medium sized and wrapped in dingy brown paper. Still, Soren held it with purpose. “I’m no good with this kind of thing,” He admitted, not meeting her eyes and instead scowling as he looked off to the side, “Just… take this.”

 

For a moment, Mist hesitated, wondering if it was some kind of prank Ike had set up Soren to do, but remembering Soren would just wave off childish notions like that, she took the package from his hands. “Sure… Thanks!” She smiled at him. Soren’s stare in that moment, which was still as cold as usual, seemed to be telling her to open the package right there.

 

So she did just that. Carefully, Mist ripped the covering paper with her fingernails, trying to make the opening as clean as possible so as to not litter. When she had taken all the paper off (and shoved it in Ike’s hands), she could see the box underneath was a rather plain brown body with a darker brown lid.

 

Another glance up at Soren, whose whole body was tensed up now, his stare more rigid than normal.

 

“Can I…?” Mist asked, worried that somehow following his direction was actually worse than not opening the package in the first place. Soren nodded to her exactly 4 times, 3 times more than he ever would at once, and Ike let out an amused sigh from behind Mist. It seemed he was getting getting a kick out of all this tension, and Soren looked ready to kill him for it.

 

The younger sibling giggled to herself then, removing the lid as she spoke, “Alright, you’re freaking out, Soren, so now I really wonder what this is—“

 

When she had opened the box, she discovered she was holding a sketchbook, roughly the size of the one she had had before, maybe a bit bigger, but with more paper in it. Stuck to the top left corner of the book, where the brown cover met the binding, was a small translucent box of several pencils and two erasers.

 

Before either Soren or Ike could say anything else, tears poured down Mist’s cheeks as she stared at the item in her hands, silent.

 

Soren’s face fell. He messed up.

 

Of course he would, right? One of the rare times he tried, and it backfired on him. He had even managed to make Mist cry. Frustrated, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I knew it. I knew you would hate it!” The tactician exhaled, clicking his tongue. “I told you, Ike, I should have gotten that other—“

 

“Thank you, Soren! Really, thank you!”

 

Soren froze mid-outburst. He looked down at Mist, who was smiling brighter than the sun, clutching his gift tightly as if it would float away if she didn’t. Sure, she was still crying, but the way she was beaming was absolutely genuine.

 

After a beat, Soren slowly put his hand down. He was so high strung about the whole thing he forgot people could cry when they were happy, too! An embarrassed blush tinged his face pink, and he looked off to his side. “Uhm. Y-You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

 

“And what was that about her not liking it?” Ike asked with a small smile. Then he leaned down to Mist’s level and pointed to the sketchbook. “He really stressed over this, Mist. In the town the other day, he spent two hours picking from—”

 

Soren lunged at Ike then, putting his hands in front of the latter’s mouth before he could tell Mist any more about their shopping trip. “Ike, be quiet!” He hissed. The last thing he wanted was any embarrassing stories about him to surface.

 

But instead of egging Ike on, Mist embraced the two of them tightly. “Thank you,” was the only thing she said.

 

At first, Soren felt out of place.

 

But it was only for a second. He put his hand atop Mist’s head and smiled.

  
  
  
  



End file.
